


Pop culture 101

by katsukiy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Yuuri and Viktor are married, a pinch of angst brought to yours truly by yuuri's anxiety, harry potter is also mentioned, mostly domestic fluff, some lines of smut, there's some happy crying, they are so in love help me, they're in st. petersburg, viktor needs some lessons on pop culture and yuuri has a list, yakov is stressed save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 05:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10299149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukiy/pseuds/katsukiy
Summary: Yuuri makes Viktor sit through the entirety of The Star Wars series for a set of mostly selfish reasons.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Or, Viktor and Yuuri love each other so much and Viktor has the most ridiculous ideas for his programs.
> 
> I tried to avoid all major spoilers for the series mentioned, but you should have watched/have some knowledge about at least the first Star Wars trilogy to get some of the references? If not for victuuri, do it for yourself.

Yuuri makes Viktor sit through the entirety of The Star Wars series –"Yes, Vitya, even the last one. You know you'll want to see it after you stop being a baby about the possibility of liking something other than raunchy romantic novels" – for a set of mostly selfish reasons.

  
The simplest one is that Viktor, despite his limb number limits, impersonates a cuddly, resilient octopus every time Yuuri even thinks about laying down on the couch.

He always demands to be the little spoon, no matter that Yuuri has to fight nail and tooth through soft tufts of silver hair to see the screen, Viktor's long, battered feet always dangling just a little out of the border because he's spider legged and his torso-leg ratio is simply ridiculous.

When he gets bored, which is often, he turns around in the painfully reached equilibrium of Yuuri's too short armed embrace and presses his cold nose into Yuuri's neck, mumbling Russian praises and sweet nothings.

It's really difficult to follow the plot.

Yuuri hits the pause button, kisses the smile off his husband's face for a little while, coerces him gently into facing the television again and resumes the film.

  
They make it through the whole eight films with little to no difficulty, mostly posed by snack breaks, bathroom breaks, Yurio screaming into the phone about a risky text Otabek visualized ten minutes prior, and Viktor pointing out brightly that Yuuri could totally pull off the slave Leia costume – “Don’t sexualize me,” Yuuri glowers, red to tip of his hair, and Viktor proceeds to show him just how much he enjoys _sexualizing_ him, his long fingers tightly gripped against their cocks, sliding together almost viciously until they both paint their bellies sticky and have to take a shower.

Yuuri is glad they took the whole weekend off, so he almost doesn’t feel guilty when he gets sidetracked and fucks Viktor slowly against the bathroom mirror, uncomfortably bent over the sink; he’ll whine about the indents the porcelain made into his _marvelous hips_ for days, but right now he’s too preoccupied holding on it for dear life, white knuckled and moaning, “more, Yuuri, _more_ ” like the bossy person he is, while in the living room the blu-ray blinks on a still of the slimy, momentarily forgotten Jabba the Hutt.

 

* * *

 

Viktor’s favourite character, to no one’s surprise, is Han Solo. He cries watching Rogue One (Yuuri does too, but that’s beside the point), bemoans that Anakin deserved better (“Everyone did,” Yuuri sniffs, primly, his eyes narrowed, “that doesn’t justify killing innocent people.” Viktor looks pensive for a little while, tips his chin up for a kiss, then concludes “Okay, but he’s _so cool_ , Yuuri!” and that’s the truth so what can you do), then starts rambling about a Han/Leia inspired pair skating for next season.

“Sadly we can’t make an exact replica of the slave costume for Yuuri, you see, it would be too much impractical, and the judges wouldn’t appreciate it” he wrinkles his nose at that, like it’s ridiculous that they wouldn’t, and Yakov is probably pulling a muscle – if his expression is any indication, the muscle could actually be _his heart_. “But I can totally pull off the silver of carbonite, you know! It will be so sad- but heartwarming, Yakov!”

Later, while Viktor is skating lazy circles in the rink with a grumbling Yurio tailing him, Yakov waits for him to put the water bottle down and shoots him an almost imploring look, and Yuuri knows he’s already thumbing a message to the costume designer. “Yura, what did you do,” he grinds out. Mila starts snickering, and when he hears Georgi’s watery “Do you not understand love, Yakov?” he grimaces. He would be sorry, but Viktor looks so happy.

He gulps another mouthful of water, shoots a skittish look to the saint man who doesn’t get paid nearly enough, and says, “at least he’s not thinking about using Darth Vader’s theme for a free skate.”

He’s wrong.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri is planning to introduce Viktor to pop culture little by little. Apparently, in between gold medals you have little time to indulge in the beauty of fantasy. Viktor _does_ know all of Beyoncé’s discography at heart, though, so he’s not totally hopeless.

Phichit already sent a list – it’s one of the longest Yuuri has ever seen him write yet, and Phichit _loves_ making lists. Needless to say, the first element is _The King and the Skater_ , underlined five times for good measure.

Yuuri’s actually thinking about Lord of the Rings, next, but don’t tell Yakov.

 

* * *

 

Viktor takes the characters in, feeding off their strong points and twisting part of his personality to include them. His Han Solo impression is not half bad, but Yuuri is glad it doesn’t last too long, because he can take only so much of false bravado – and while he enjoys being Princess Leia, he found out he doesn’t despise the idea of being Katsuki Yuuri either. Viktor is still working on it. It’s okay.

 

* * *

 

One of the other, most obscure motives Yuuri had by starting with Star Wars, is that he knew _the phrase_ would stick.

 

The first time it happens, they’ve just finished the whole series, it’s a little past five in the morning, and the whole world seems softer, covered in a blanket of dawn. The sun has not come up yet, it’s still a little too early, but the sky peeks rosy through the curtains of the living room and some birds have already started stubbornly chirping.

The end credits of Rogue One roll on the screen – of course they watched in release date order, they’re not _barbarians_. Viktor is sniffling quietly into the blanket, his nose red, and how can he be so painfully attractive with snot everywhere is a question Yuuri asks himself too often (Viktor was not used to cry, but since that terrible night before the GPF it seems like his lacrimal ducts have been unobstructed and now he cries at dog commercials).

In that moment, Yuuri feels the kind of love that fills his lungs and makes him warm all over, the intensity of it staggering, and he knows that the reason he doesn’t feel like this every moment is just because his body is trying to preserve itself, because it’s _so much_ , he loves Viktor too much for his own good, couldn’t have thought it possible if you asked him just two years ago – and anyone could tell you two years ago Yuuri still had a pretty mean crush on the man himself, really. It’s scary, it makes his heart hurt and squeeze in his chest, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

So Yuuri wipes his own tears, gets up to retrieve some tissues, stops just a little to smile down at Makkachin’s snoozing form on the carpet, and proceeds to clean up his husband’s splotchy face with gentle fingers.

The feeling is still there, still spilling out of him like water out of a full vase, and all Yuuri can do is mumble “I love you.”

Viktor honest to god _giggles_ , and Yuuri knows he shouldn’t have sent off those life alert promoters last week because his heart really can’t take it. Blue eyes twinkle in the reflection of the tv (and really, is the whole world involved into the making of Star Wars because the credits are so long?), and Viktor seems so delighted when he intones seriously “I know” that he can only smile back, trying not to start crying again as more water spills out of the damn vase.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri is, most would say, a pretty foul judge of his own character. He knows better than that, though. He’s too hard on himself, that’s true, but he also knows all the ugly parts that he never lets out, and they know him back.

He knows he can be cruel, and insensitive. Sometimes he’ll be too caught up in his own head and forget about everything else. He’ll be cold and distant for no particular reason, and his vicious thoughts sometimes get so mean he can’t even process them.

Viktor has faults, too, of course he does. But if there’s one thing that Viktor never does, is make him doubt of his unwavering love. Viktor loves him. He never stops saying it, not ever, not since he understood that Yuuri needs it in words.

 

He doubts anyway.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was afraid that saying it too much would make it mean less. With time, he understands that it’s bullshit, like Yurio would so graciously put it. Every time, he means it. Sometimes he’s sure he means it more than the last time he said it.

 

Thing is, Viktor adores saying it. It bubbles out of his mouth so freely you’d think it was rehearsed. He says it in the morning before breakfast, and during breakfast too, biting down on Yuuri’s lobe, making him drop the spatula he was using to flip the pancakes. He says it when he leaves to take Makkachin on a walk, and then when he comes back. He screams it at the rink during practice, eliciting various reactions (mostly fond smiles, Yurio screaming bloody murder, Yakov’s carefully constructed blankness as he barks to “keep practicing, Vitya, your free leg is so sloppy a noodle would take more points in competition!” and Yuuri’s utmost embarrassment), one or two times whispers it like it’s the secret of life to baffled journalists who only wanted to know his comments on this or that performance. He declares it to everyone in the world, at a press conference just after the Olympics, and Yuuri has to grip the table hard and breathe deeply to avoid falling out of the chair next to him. He whimpers it, the words tumbling out while Yuuri’s pounding into him, their hands tangled together, his expression so vulnerable it hurts and unshed tears glittering on his lashes.

 

Yuuri, see, is a private person.

  
"I love you," he says into the pale smoothness of Viktor's hips. "I don't wanna live without you," he pretends he's whispering to the snow, to the expanse of ice of a freshly cleaned rink.  
Fingers card through his hair, and the reply is so soft in between the staccato of his pounding heartbeat, almost painful "I know," Viktor breathes, with a smile that would make Yuuri cry, if he had the courage to look at it, "me too."

 

And on it goes.

 

It becomes a sort of given, that Yuuri will say “I love you” and Viktor will reply “I know” and smile, an array of different tones and smiles, all dazzling and all for Yuuri. Sometime he’ll wink too, for good measure, because he knows it’s cute and Yuuri is smitten.

 

It’s never the other way around.

 

Viktor pretends not to notice, laughs and kisses his nose, keeps channeling his inner Han Solo and skates away.

 

Yuuri is not an idiot. He knows, deep down, that his doubts are unfounded. That he’s being a complete, utter twat, but he’s working on it. Every day, Viktor will remind him of his love countless times, and every time Yuuri will believe him a little more.

 

* * *

 

They go through most of Phichit’s list, and since Yuuri is one to go out with a bang, he leaves Harry Potter for last  – also, because he has pity for Yakov and he knows a Drarry pair skate would be the last of him (he’s not a miracle maker, he knows he’s just putting off the inevitable).

 

Viktor burns through the books and demands to have a viewing party for the movies. “Invite everyone,” he commands, with the determination of a man who has just finished a saga and is not ready to let go.

It goes surprisingly well, and Yuuri could swear he’s seen Yurio cry at least once. Georgi never stopped.

 

It’s half past six in the morning, and the couch is a mess of tangled limbs and various tones of snoring that Yuuri could probably recognize with his eyes closed. He extricates himself delicately and pours himself some juice in the kitchen.

 

Viktor, who has been engaged in a particularly vicious fight with his laptop until now, or so it seemed by his serious expression, closes it with a definitive nod and goes to take Yuuri’s hand.

 

“It appears,” he whispers, in a solemn tone, betrayed only by the heart shaped smile that starts splitting his face “that I belong in Slytherin.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes widen just a little, and his mouth curls into a mirroring smile. “I knew it,” he laughs. Before Viktor can open his mouth again, Yuuri taps his nose with a finger and adds, “Yes, I’ll be your Harry.”

 

Viktor’s expression morphs into the one Yuuri knows so well, the one he’s probably wearing too right now  – the one that talks about water spilling out of a full vase and unbidden devotion.

 

So when Viktor kisses him soundly and says “I love you” Yuuri can’t reply anything else but “I know.”

 

Viktor cries.  

**Author's Note:**

> I have a list of things you can pry from my cold, dead hands: the headcanon that Viktor is a Slytherin and Yuuri is a Gryffindor, the fact that you should see the Star Wars movies in the date of release order, Anakin Skywalker is a loser but a _cool_ one (I bet Viktor secretly hates sand too), Viktor probably cries at everything now because Yuuri freed his tear ducts, also I have this feeling he likes really inappropriate romantic novels/movies (yknow, he comes home after a day at the rink and there's nothing else on tv, so he gets hooked, starts following it religiously, the rest is history) aand I really liked Rogue One. Also Drarry, that too.
> 
> Sorry for the half assed smut but it fitted, especially with the last image of sexy Jabba burnt in your mind.  
> This is my first work for the yoi fandom, omg. Please treat me gently? Also, kudos and comments would make me the happiest person in the world ;;  
> Also, if you want, come scream victuuri at me on [tumblr!](http://yuriplisetsk.tumblr.com)
> 
> And last but not least, I want to thank my beta, cheerleader and love of my life for her support and love (and her coercive power into making me post things I hate). Thank you. This one hits home a little too closely, you know it.  
> 


End file.
